gne, post-paid!"

"My!" said Rose-Pompon; "it is for the little mysterious old man, who has
such extraordinary ways. Does it come from far?"

"I believe you; it comes from Italy, from Rome," said Ninny Moulin,
looking in his turn at the letter, which the greengrocer held in her
hand. "Who is the astonishing little old man of whom you speak?"

"Just imagine to yourself, my great apostle," said Rose-Pompon, "a little
old man, who has two rooms at the bottom of that court. He never sleeps
there, but comes from time to time, and shuts himself up for hours,
without ever allowing any one to enter his lodging, and without any one
knowing what he does there."

"He is a conspirator," said Ninny Moulin, laughing, "or else a comer."

"Poor dear man," said Mother Arsene, "what has he done with his false
money? He pays me always in sous for the bit of bread and the radish I
furnish him for his breakfast."

"And what is the name of this mysterious chap?" asked Dumoulin.

"M. Charlemagne," said the greengrocer. "But look, surely one speaks of
the devil, one is sure to see his horns."

"Where's the horns?"

"There, by the side of the house--that little old man, who walks with his
neck awry, and his umbrella under his arm."

"M. Rodin!" ejaculated Ninny Moulin, retreating hastily, and descending
three steps into the shop, in order not to be seen. Then he added. "You
say, that this gentleman calls himself--"

"M. Charlemagne--do you know him?" asked the greengrocer.

"What the devil does he do here, under a false name?" said Jacques
Dumoulin to himself.

"You know him?" said Rose-Pompon, with impatience. "You are quite
confused."

"And this gentleman has two rooms in this house, and comes here
mysteriously," said Jacques Dumoulin, more and more surprised.

"Yes," resumed Rose-Pompon; "you can see his windows from Philemon's
dove-cote."

"Quick! quick! let me go into the passage, that I may not meet him," said
Dumoulin.

And, without having been perceived by Rodin, he glided from the shop into
the passage, and thence mounted to the stairs, which led to the apartment
occupied by Rose-Pompon.

"Good-morning, M. Charlemagne," said Mother Arsene to Rodin, who made his
appearance on the threshold. "You come twice in a day; that is right, for
your visits are extremely rare."

"You are too polite, my good lady," said Rodin, with a very courteous
bow; and he entered the shop of the greengrocer.

[21] There are, really, o